


Remember to fill up your tank, kids.

by RainbowsandSparkles



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Established Relationship, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, blood sucking, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23581999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowsandSparkles/pseuds/RainbowsandSparkles
Summary: Baz and Simon get stranded and Baz is hungry. Blood sucking ensues.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow/Other(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	Remember to fill up your tank, kids.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted Baz to drink from Simon then this happened. I'm not sorry.

**Simon**

We are utterly and royally fucked and it’s all my fault. Baz said I could drive so I did. We weren’t meant to be gone long; Penny, Shepard, and Agatha were all still waiting back at the hotel, but Baz wanted to talk, and I wanted it just to be us and I’d gotten carried away. It felt nice to be free, to be flying without flying. But without Penny, and Baz running on next to nothing, we hadn’t spelled the gas and now we were running on empty, miles away from bloody anything.

Baz looks cool as anything, hand casually resting on the back of my seat, but I know he’s panicking. He hasn’t eaten anything in four days and I know by the way his pupils dilate when a particularly strong breeze hits us that he’s trying to stop his fangs from popping and trying to imagine anything other than the way I’d taste.

“It’s okay, Simon,” He says now and that’s when I really know how not okay it is; he only ever calls me Simon when he’s trying to calm me, or when he wants something, or (like now) when everything is not okay but he’s going to pretend it is. “We’ll just call the girls I’m sure one of them can find us.”

Oh. That does calm me. He’s right. The girls are there, we can call them, and they can come rescue us like knights in shining armour and it will all be okay. Baz pulls his phone out just as I realise I’ve left mine at the hotel and I’m filled with relief at my fantastically prepared boyfriend before he pales (more than usual if that’s possible) and shows me his very blank, very dead phone.

He swallows, Adams apple bobbing visibly. It’s fine. He’ll have a plan- this is Baz we’re talking about. He will definitely have a plan.

**Baz**

I don’t have a plan.

I know Simon will expect me to have one but at the minute all I can think of is how very very hungry I am and how very very delicious he would taste. It’s all my fault. I should have gone hunting before insisting we go and bloody talked, I should have known this would happen, I should have saved my magic and charged my fucking phone. I should have. I should have. I should have.

Doesn’t matter now. Snow’s in danger and I’ll do what it takes to protect him. I’ll slit my throat if I have to. I wonder if I could drink myself. Probably wouldn’t work but maybe it would quench my thirst. Set the fire on my own land as it were. I can’t be turned twice so it’s not like it could hurt me. There’s no harm in trying.

I bring my wrist to my lips. Snow tangles his hand in mine stopping me just before my fangs sink into my plump vein.

**Simon**

“What the fuck?!” I find myself saying. Baz raises one perfectly tamed eyebrow and gives me this look like I’m the one who was about to drink my own blood! Bloody idiot, you don’t take the water out the river to fill it up!

I’ve spent the last five minutes brainstorming all the ways we can survive this and it becomes even more obvious that I am not the thinker in the group because the only things I could think of was pray real hard, write HELP in giant letters on the ground and hope something flies above, or- there’s one thing, it could work, it’s stupid, it would work, but-

It’s dangerous. There’s a massive risk but he wouldn’t hurt me. He might not have control the Penny part of my brain supplies (He would. He would never hurt me). Penny would kill us if she found out- Baz twice over- but she doesn’t need to know. Baz would kill himself if he turned or killed me (I’m not sure what’s worse for him. I’m not sure what’s worse for me).

I’d let him though. If he asked. I’d let him take everything and more.

“Simon,” he says reaching for me with his other hand, I let him have it, I think he’s going to ask but instead he pushes me half-heartedly towards the door, “You need to go-”

“-No!” I gasp a bit too loudly and, in protest, pull him closer wrapping my arms around him and wings around both of us blocking out the rest of the world. It just needs to be me and him. Me and him against everything. Me and him against him. I pull him closer still till our bodies line up perfectly and there isn’t a gap of air between us.

**Baz**

I’m going to bloody spell this idiot if I have to. You’d think for the chosen one he’d have some better survival instincts than this, although I will admit it is bloody heroic to stay and bloody romantic (I’d be swooning if the circumstances were different.) (Hell, I am swooning.). Or maybe just bloody stupid. I don’t care how much he thinks I won’t hurt him- he needs to grab a dose of self- preservation if you ask me- I might and could and that’s all he should need to know to have him running for the hills. But here he is clinging to me, wings casting us in red hue, “Simon,” I say again instead of spelling him (being I’m weak and I don’t really want him to go.) and instead of running, like he should, he kisses me and my mind blanks.

**Simon**

Kissing him worked before so maybe it will help again. It seems to. His eyes close and his head tilts and he finally stops pushing me and that’s when I know he’s got lost in it.

Works every time.

His tongue pokes at my closed lips and eagerly I let him in (I’ve wanted this for so long. Why is it always when he’s depressed that we have the best make out sessions?). Then- suddenly, without preamble- it all goes to shit. He pulls away before I can even register anything’s gone wrong. Baz is clutching a hand over his mouth, pressing down hard, looking more afraid than I’ve ever seen him. Baz has never been much of a crier, I’m sure if all the people he knew in the world came together and counted the amount of times they’d seen him cry it could be collated on one persons’ hand, but now the tears are falling freely and he’s whimpering so softly I’m sure another person not so attuned to Baz’s every sound would have missed it. Shit, shit, shit, shit. I can deal with angry Baz, I can deal with happy Baz, I don’t know what to do with this.

For a second, I think about kissing him again but think better of it- if I got any closer to his fangs I think he’d set himself on fire (I can only stop him from burning so many times).

“Please, Simon, please,” he’s shaking his head. I’m not sure what he’s asking; I’m not sure what I want him to be asking. I’m not leaving him; not even if he gets on his hands and knees and begs me to. Never. I’ll give him everything but not that. “Simon, Simon, Simon,” he says like a prayer but I’m no God, I can’t do miracles all I can offer is all that I am and I’m not much.

“It’s okay,” I hear myself whispering.

**Baz**

Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon. Simon.

He’s sweet. So sweet. I want to eat him. He’s all I can smell, all I can see, all I can touch. I want him. I want him. I want him.

Please, please, please. I don’t know what I’m saying and not. All I know is him; he’s everything. I want him. I need him. Please.

I can’t have this, I can’t, I can’t. I want it. Please, please, please. Simon-

I need him.

**Simon**

Baz is babbling- I get flashes of ‘please’ and ‘I can’t’ and ‘Simon’ and all I can think is yes you can you miraculous beast- and staring into my eyes like it will say everything he doesn’t want to (everything he can’t). I need him to ask, I can’t do this if he doesn’t.

“It’s okay. What do you need?”

His hand reaches to my neck, pressing in slightly where my pulse is hammering away (more from arousal than anything. Sue me.) but I can’t find it in me to be scared. This is Baz. He can’t hurt me. “You.” he says leaning in.

I push my neck towards him closing the gap. “Take it. Take all of it.”

And then his fangs sink in and I black out.

**Baz**

I think this is what heaven is. Maybe I really am dead, and this is God’s way of repaying me for all the shit I’ve been through. All I can feel is Simon. Simon. Beautiful, brave, stupid Simon. He’s everywhere, he’s all I know and yet my mind feels clearer than ever. I want him like this forever, under my thumb, where I can find him. The whole hype around human blood finally makes sense but maybe it’s just Simon that tastes this good. He’s all I want to drink ever. It’d be like my own personal blood fountain.

Simon Snow. He’s so alive; he’s so full of it and I love him.

**Simon**

When I come back to myself all I can feel is bliss and Baz. Blood falls out of me and into him; I can feel every contraction of his throat where he’s gulping greedily. He’s like a man starved of water and I’m his river, or, well, a vampire without blood and I’m his personal keg. For a second, I worry he won’t stop but it feels so good I don’t dwell on it too much. It’s like orgasm after orgasm and I finally get why people seek this out. The people at the party had the right idea.

If I knew it would be this good I would have been opening my veins for Baz in first year. I would have let him drain me dry within the first week.

He’s everywhere, it’s too much and not enough all at the same time. I want to pull him closer but there’s nowhere for him to go but into me.

After what feels like five minutes and an hour all at the same time he finally pulls away. There’s blood dripping down his chin, my blood, and I hate to admit that it’s hot as fuck and kind of makes me want to kiss him. A lot. I guess I am a fucking tragedy and maybe a little weird. He’s so perfect.

I don’t kiss him.

**Baz**

It’s a fucking travesty that I’m not kissing Simon Snow right now. Or biting him. Or both (if that’s at all possible. I intend to find out). I’m too busy staring at Simon's parted lips (mouth breather) that I startle when, out of the corner of my eye, I see blood slip down Simon’s neck and before I can register what’s happening my tongue is already lapping at where it’s fallen. I am fucking disturbed. Simon sighs into it just as I’m about to pull away and subject myself to his disgusted look (just because someone lets you drink their blood does not mean you can go and lick it off them without asking afterwards) and I think maybe I’m not the only disturbed one and that he is somehow also into this. I give another tentative lick, to test the waters, and he definitely leans into it. Well that explains that. My impulse flies out the window at that slight sign of desire and suddenly I’m licking frantically at his neck with renewed vigour like a dog gone without water for days. I lick until there’s no blood to lick anymore and I’m just licking at his bare skin slick with my spit.

**Simon**

Someone should have told me that my boyfriend licking my neck would feel so good. Weird. But good. He should do this more often- like all the time if I have any say in the matter- if his lips aren’t on mine then they should be on my neck or other, more useful, places.

After what is defiantly longer than usually acceptable, he pulls away again looking positively feral. His eyes are blown, and I hate to think what mine look like; I think I’m panting but I can’t be sure, I can’t hear anything over the rushing in my ears. It should be illegal for Baz to look like that; all flushed and pretty and dripping in my blood.

“Hi,” I say because I’m a little starstruck and that’s all that manages to come out my mouth. Baz does this cute thing where he tilts his head to the side and looks all cute and confused. His mouth parts and I think I’m going to get an equally dumb response when he stops and all the life I just put back into his face drains.

“Simon, I’m so sorry, oh love, I’m so sorry,” his thumb wipes frantically back and forth over where he’s just bitten- oh. The words forming on my lips get chocked off by Baz casting a myriad of healing spells. None of them land of course but he doesn’t stop trying- impossible git. I find myself pulling his hand (he’s clutching his wand so hard it’s basically an extension of his arm) away from my neck and towards my lips. I kiss it.

“It’s okay, Baz, It’s fine, I’m okay-”

“-Simon-”

“Baz, it’s okay-”

“No”,” his voice is strained, “Simon look.” His thumb rubs more gently now. “It’s gone.” Baz must be having a laugh; I know when I’m being spelled and none of what he just did was it. It can’t be gone; he’s just not looking hard enough. I’m about to protest- “No, Simon, please look. It’s not there I swear it.”

Well now I’m just confused. It can’t not be there that’s impossible that’s- HOLY SHIT! I’ve pulled myself away from the driver’s seat to stare into the rear-view mirror and it really is unbelievably gone. What. The. Fuck.

**Baz**

“Baz.”

“I know.”

“Baz.”

“I know!”

“How did this- what did- how did- augh-” Simon’s face contorts in pain as he screams out and I’m filled with sudden dread and panic. Is this it? Is this how I kill Simon Snow?

He screams again and I think I’m crying but I don’t dare wipe my eyes, I can’t look away- not even for a second. He’s saying my name or a mangled version of it and reaching for me, all I can do is take it. This is my last moment with Simon Snow and I’m being a useless little git and he’s so hurt. He’s so hurt. I can’t help him. I don’t know what to do.

There’s a pop. Then the faint sound of snapping. And then there’s more screaming. I don’t know how to make it stop. I’m so glad I don’t remember turning. Or dying. Or both. He’s writhing against the steering wheel and I’m definitely crying but so is he and then there’s another pop- louder than the one before- and the screaming stops. Simon Snow lays limp on the steering wheel. Oh god, oh god, oh god, I’ve killed him, he’s dead. Simon. Please. You can’t leave me. Come back to me. Please.

Simon.

**Simon**

Son of a motherfucking bitch that hurt.

**Baz**

He’s dead. I’m convinced he’s dead. He’s not moving. I can’t hear his heartbeat. He’s dead.

I can’t look at him, but I can’t look away. He’s all I have. He’s everything and I killed him. He’s so still, he’s not moving, he’s-

Wait.

“Simon?”

He groans. It’s quiet, if I weren’t a vampire I don’t think I would have heard it but it’s irrevocably, unmistakably him. Aleister Crowley I’m living a charmed life.

“Simon! Simon! You’re okay. You’re-” I’m on the floor. Somehow. Pressed up against the window. He hasn’t moved from where he’s crouched but holy mother of God. His wings are spread to twice the size they were before- big and proud- there’s no holes in them, no broken folded bits. They’re healed- they’re better! What the shit. “Your wings!”

“Uh huh. Yeah.” He sounds like he’s been through a battle and barley gotten out alive but its okay because he is alive and that’s all I care about right now. When he’s rested and perfect (he’s always perfect but that is beside the point) we can fly out of here and get help but right now we can just sit and he can heal and I can thank every single God I know that my Simon, my beautiful, amazing Simon is still alive. We can worry about the rest later.


End file.
